It's A Setup!
by purplecloak9
Summary: Harry's visit interrupts Ron's one chance to court Hermione. He sets Harry up with his ex, Ginny, to get them both out of the way. Upon discovering the scheme, Harry and Ginny seek revenge. Undergoing major revision.
1. Manipulation

**A/N: This is the first revised chapter of It's A Setup!. I wrote this when I first started writing fanfiction, and it was embarassingly unprepared to be posted online. For that fumble, I apologize to anyone who read this in the first place. This won't be deviating from the original plotline, but I will be fixing the grammar and inconsistancies.**

OoOoO

Perhaps Ron Weasley wasn't the happiest man in all of magical England. He had a shitty one bedroom flat, which was about the least that he could get for the most amount of money, a monotonous job, and a shattered heart. Sure, he had a loving family and for the most part he could ignore the ache in his chest which accompanied the knowledge that the woman he loved was spending her time loving someone else.

Trips to Diagon Alley the last five years had been few and far in between. Ron remembered fondly the trips his family had made before the school year began when he was a kid. He'd been so excited, so enthusiastic about getting out in the world with all of that magic. The Quidditch supply store was his constant destination, although he spent more time in the apothecary, clinging to his mum's skirts to avoid looking at canned frog spleen.

Now, it was harder to be out in the open, for fear of running into someone from his past. It hurt him to think about her—and he knew that she was too dignified to avoid him. If they met in the street, she would introduce him to her husband and then his heart would pop out of his chest, steal his wand, and Avada Kedavra itself.

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts he was caught completely unprepared when he clipped the shoulder of someone passing him on the narrow walkway. The person, he was now aware it was a brunette witch, stumbled and nearly fell onto the cobbled street.

"Oi, Moron!"

She fell neatly into his arms. People shot them annoyed looks at the inconvenience, but all Ron could think of was the soft body cradled in his embrace. When she straightened and he finally got a good look at her, his traitorous heart leapt.

Hermione Granger stood in front of him, dusting off her robes and gathering the stack of books that had tumbled out of her arms.

But wait. It's Hermione_ Goldstein_ now.

He held out his hand politely, not noticing the shocked look on her face.

"Hermione, it's really nice to see you," he said somewhat coolly, trying desperately to fight off the blush threatening to break out on his cheeks. _What are you, thirteen years old?_

Having been his best friend for seven years and estranged from him for another five, Hermione immediately picked up on his mood. She ignored his hand and pulled him into a hug, sighing in contentment at his familiar scent.

"It's good to see you," she murmured. The period of time indicating a friendly hug had dried up, and they both knew it.

He pulled back, studying her. "How are you?"

"Good," she said, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Divorced. And you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You and Anthony split?"

"Walk with me, Ron; I was just heading to Flourish and Blotts."

"Why is that?"

"I just got a couple of advanced copies of the new book and my publisher wants me to drop them off for review. They'll give a copy or two to good customers and I'll get really nice quotes for the book jacket."

"Do you usually go about it that way?"

She smiled at this. He wouldn't have thought to ask that question five years before. "Not usually. But I've been thinking I need something fresh perspective. I've been thinking about revising. Everyone thinks it's so good…but, I don't know…something's missing.

"I wanted to write about the _real_ Hogwarts, you know, the stuff I was always telling you and Harry about when we were in school. But now it just seems like I completely missed my goal." She sighed.

"So are you going to answer my question?" he asked, looking at the crowded streets of Diagon Alley. He wasn't ready to look at her just yet, now that she was suddenly, impossibly available.

She flashed him her beautiful smile. "I was hoping to avoid it."

"I'm glad I ran into you."

"Really? I was under the impression you were avoiding me," she said, frowning.

"I wasn't trying to avoid you."

Flourish and Blotts was up ahead, but Ron wasn't ready to let her go just yet. He waited patiently for her to respond.

She gave him an uncomfortable look. "That isn't what Molly tells me."

"You've been talking to my _mum_?" he asked, his horror evident.

"I had to talk to _someone_ during the divorce proceedings," she said. "And my own mum, well, she doesn't really understand how things are in the magical world. She kept going on and on about alimony and irreconcilable differences. Your mum is very understanding."

At his severe look, she sighed. "Anthony and I decided it would be better if we didn't live together anymore. That was over a year ago. It took me a little while to file…you know, wishful thinking and all of that. He's seeing Susan Bones, in case you're interested."

"Of course I am!" he exclaimed. "I'm so in love with Susan, I can't believe she's not available anymore!"

"Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

He grinned down at her. She smiled at him.

"I've missed you," he said softly.

"Me too," she agreed. "I didn't realize how much until right now."

"Do you…" he began, suddenly uncertain. He looked up; they were now standing right outside of the bookshop, and had been in the same idle position for at least three minutes. "Do you want to go out…with me?"

She examined him carefully. "I'd like that."

"Could we meet at the Burrow, tomorrow night?"

"Yes, that would be…good, I think."

"You won't be thinking when we're done with the date, 'Mione. You'll know."

OoOoOoO

When Ron returned to his flat, his chest was heaving with excitement. He was going out with Hermione! She was single! He was going out with Hermione Granger, someone he had been in love with his whole life.

She and Anthony had been married less than a month out of Hogwarts and it had been without a doubt the worst day of his life.

Standing there in the sunshine at a popular garden for the ceremony, he hadn't thought he would ever get over it. She looked so beautiful that day, with flowers in her hair, but today she'd looked even more beautiful. He was in love all over again.

An owl swooped in through the open window, dropping a tightly wrapped scroll onto the kitchen table. He went to it and unrolled the parchment.

_Ron,_

_Here's the reminder you asked for, I'll be in town the tomorrow. I'm catching a portkey at eleven in the morning – yes, you really have to be up that early to fetch me as I've never been to your flat.._

_I'll see you soon,_

_Harry_

_Bugger._

He couldn't have Harry intruding on his date with Hermione. But he also knew that if Hermione knew Harry was alone in town she'd insist he tag along—and that, simply put, _could not happen._

He needed someone to distract Harry for the night. If only he could find someone to distract Harry long enough for him to connect with Hermione again. It would have to be someone Harry could be at least a little comfortable with—a groupie would just make Harry want to come back to the flat immediately.

A face flashed through his mind and he grinned. He knew exactly who he could con into doing this for him. She was unattached, she was lonely, and she would almost certainly be available for a night on the town. Especially with Harry Potter.

OoOoOoO

"Gin, he asked me to speak with you personally. He's been thinking about you the last five years, ever since he's been away. The least you could do is have dinner with the poor bloke," said Ron.

Ginny finished folding her Quidditch robes and stuffed them into her practice bag. She had a practice Quaffle in her hand and was trying futilely to throw her hair into a ponytail with one hand.

"Ron, Harry and I haven't spoken since a month after the final battle. We never wrote letters, we never discussed getting back together. I've moved on in the last five years, believe it or not, and so has Harry. How do you know he isn't bringing a witch on this visit?"

"Because he begged me to set up a date with you," he lied, face turning red. He was glad that Ginny seemed to be trapped in thought because red skin was a sure fire way to tell when a Weasley was lying.

"Please, Gin, just do it! You don't have to ever see him again, just go out with him once and then you can explain to him that you aren't interested anymore."

She stopped rushing and let the equipment bag fall to the floor. Eyeing him skeptically, she asked, "Why are you so concerned about this?"

"I just don't want to see my best friend hurt, especially not when you could prevent it with such little effort. All you have to do it put on a black dress and smile at him over a firewhiskey. It isn't that big of a deal."

She knew she was defeated. Who was she kidding? She'd been in love with Harry Potter since she could spell his name. And now she was going to dive into the same black hole: loving him without a prayer of him loving her back. At least, not in a way that was enough for either of them.

Of course, how much could one evening hurt? Just like Ron said, they'd have a drink and a meal, and then she could come home feeling like the better person. She didn't need to _hide_ from Harry Potter. Mum would undoubtedly invite him to the Burrow for dinner—why couldn't Ginny break the ice tonight as to avoid any future awkwardness?

"Okay," she said, throwing her hands in the air. "I'll go."

OoOoOoO

"I am _not_ going out with your sister, Ron," said Harry Potter, for the seventh time since he had Apparated into the flat.

He had been at Ron's flat for three minutes and then informed he was already booked for the night. Instead of relaxing on his vacation with a butterbeer on Ron's couch, he was going to have to go out with an incredibly sexy woman who he had been avoiding for five years. He didn't know where they were supposed to go, but he imagined he'd have to conjure up formal robes.

He shouldn't even be considering, he reasoned. He was not going on the date.

"Harry, I wouldn't ask this if Ginny wasn't breaking my mum's heart with all her moping. But Ginny really misses you, and that is why she hasn't dated anyone since you left for Argentina. She's been so depressed since I told her you were coming for one of your rare visits and I promised her I would set you two up on a date," he finished, putting on a depressed face.

Harry sighed. The image of a sobbing Molly Weasley haunted him; the picture of a sulking Ginny unbearable. She still looked gorgeous, even with red eyes.

"Okay," he consented. "I'm going."


	2. Hatching the Plan

"So, you're playing Chaser for the Harpies now?" _Yes, lame_, he admitted, but sitting in front of this woman he wasn't capable of more sophisticated conversation. He actually gave himself points for being able to speak after she'd brushed his arm when he pulled out the chair for her.

She nodded, taking a sip of wine. "I'm half-way into my first season. It's been the best experience of my life." _Besides kissing you, of course_, she thought, and then inwardly scolded herself. _Pull yourself together, Weasley._

_My best experience was kissing you,_ he conceded silently. "That's great."

The dinner had turned out exactly the opposite of how Harry had imagined it would be. What he had hoped would be pleasant and comfortable turned out stiff and awkward. Ginny seemed to be using anything as a way of deflecting any sort of opportunity for him to gain insight into her private life.

"Where've you been the last five years, Harry?" Her voice was so firm that he unintentionally leaned away from the table. Her eyes remained bright and cheerful, but her jaw clenched as she reached for the wineglass.

Hesitating, Harry tried to be as honest as possible. "I…I've been in Argentina these last few years."

"I see."

"Ginny," he said urgently, now recognizing the famous Ginny Weasley rage induced personality shutdown. "I know you've missed me, and I know I hurt you when I left, but-"

"_I_ missed _you?_ What the hell are you talking about?" Her face was flushed, wondering how on Earth anyone could have known that everyday for a year she'd looked out of the kitchen window at the Burrow and watch for his familiar figure in the distance.

Harry put on a sympathetic face, hating to know he was causing the flush of mortification he was causing. How he hated himself for the suffering he must have caused her.

"It's okay, Ginny, Ron told me."

Now she was just confused. Her words echoed her thoughts. "Ron told you what?"

He sighed. "Does it really matter? The important thing is that I know I did something wrong. Actually, I did a lot of things wrong. I…" _Love you, love you._

"Harry, what did Ron tell you?"

"I know I haven't been around the last few years, but I want to make up for that. I want to be here for everyone, not just you. I think if you give me a chance we can all be friends again. This time there isn't anything in the way of your family and me having a healthy relationship. I was wrong—"

"Harry," she interrupted crossly. "You aren't listening to me. What did Ron tell you about me?"

His brow furrowed as he considered. "He…he told me you were moping ever since I left for Argentina. He said that when you found out I was coming to town you made him set up the date. And I don't care about that Gin, I just-"

Her face was an even more intense shade of red. "That git," she ground out, furiously. "I can't believe he would make up such an idiotic story. You couldn't honestly believe I was crying about your supposed abandonment for _five_ years!"

Now exceedingly embarrassed, Harry nodded. "Oh, God. Oh, _Merlin. _ He totally framed me! He used a guilt trip, saying you were breaking your mother's heart and that I'd better take you out…"

"And he told me that you forced _him_ to set up the date. I think I know what's going on here, Harry. Ron's met a witch he wanted to booze up tonight and you were in the way. He manipulated our past and went out tonight!"

Harry groaned into his spaghetti. "He played us."

"Yes, he did," she agreed, looking longingly into his emerald eyes. "But I have a way to get him back."

"Well, Miss Weasley, you've piqued my interest."

OoOoOoO

There was something about Hermione Granger that wouldn't let him rest. Ron wanted to be with her above anyone or anything else. The way she danced, fluid and graceful, made him want things he hadn't when he was fifteen. He had always, even since he was eleven, found Hermione physically attractive, but it shocked him a little to find he was actually interested in her conversation for the very first time. He didn't roll his eyes at her remarks on Unspeakable codes or House Elf laws. With age her persuasive technique had improved, but her commitment hadn't changed. She was just as passionate as the day she had bustled into the common room with a bag full of woolly hats.

"And that's why I decided to decline the offer of Undersecretary to the Minister," she said, giving him an amused look at the slightly glazed over state in his eyes. "Well, that and the fact that I'm sure the job is cursed after the old toad Umbridge."

He gave a satisfied laugh. "It must have been hard to give it up, especially after working for five years nonstop."

She shrugged. "I didn't have a marriage, really, not since Anthony and I celebrated our first anniversary in separate continents."

"How did that happen?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I set up a romantic dinner, for just the two of us, and took two nights off from work. I had asked him weeks before, to make absolutely sure he was aware of the plan. I cooked, I cleaned, I…I tried to…" She cleared her throat. "At any rate, he flooed from his office at the _Prophet _and told me he was sorry, but he would 'regrettably' be spending three days in China covering some riots in Beijing. I think that was when it was over."

"Hermione…"

"Don't. I've been over it for a long time. Why think about someone who doesn't think about me, right?" she smiled briefly, but Ron thought it looked a little strained.

"Right."

"Tell me about you," she requested, smiling gently. "What have _you_ been doing?"

OoOoOoO

Ron waved his wand to open the front door of his flat. He was exhausted from his date with Hermione, but very glad that she'd given him both the initial chance and the promise of a lunch date next week.

He paused before he walked through the door, hearing the unmistakable sound of giggling. Two people giggling. Two people were giggling in his flat; his bachelor pad – a strict no-giggle zone.

"What the bloody hell – " The words died in his throat.


	3. Let's Be Honest

Ginny, wearing the green button down shirt he'd worn under his robes, pulled him closer. She had knickers on, but no trousers, and he felt his heart skip a beat when her bare thigh brushed his jean clad one.. She straddled him, smiling mischievously, and whispered in his ear.

"I think he's out in the hallway. Now, you remember the plan, correct?"

He gulped. _As if I could think straight in a moment like this. _Nodding, he said out loud, "I remember."

She pushed him back against the couch, resting her tiny hands on his chest. Her eyes were trained on the door, but her mind was reeling. _Oh Merlin…I'm sitting on Harry's lap!_

AsRon magiked the door open, she pulled Harry against her for a slow kiss.

She pulled back, wide-eyed, positive he could hear her heart breaking. How long had it been since she'd kissed him? His lips were just as soft, he smelled and tasted exactly the same as he had six years ago. Unable to deny herself, she kissed him again, more aggressively.

"What the bloody – " sputtered Ron from the doorway. Ginny jerked her face from Harry's – now completely unaware of her surroundings. For a second she could have sworn she was a fifth year, under a tree on the grounds of Hogwarts, snogging a troubled Harry Potter senseless.

The light flicked on. "WHAT THE _HELL _ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SISTER?"

Harry winked at Ginny curled up in his lap. "We were shagging, before you so rudely interrupted. We were just celebrating."

"Celebrating? Celebrating what, exactly?"

"We're getting married," Ginny chirped. "In a month."

Ron's face, before a tomato red, now looked on the verge of explosion. "You're…getting…married?"

"We reconnected," declared Harry, rubbing Ginny on the back. She playfully arched into his touch and the two rolled over on the couch, filling the room with giggles and the sound of rambunctious kissing.

"Stop it! I can't watch this!"

Ginny pulled back, breathing hard, and rested her forehead against Harry's. "Where were you tonight, Ron? I feel bad that the two of us ditched you this evening." Harry winked at her.

If it was even possible, Ron looked more uncomfortable. "Er…that's no problem. I actually had a last minute date."

"Mmm," Ginny purred against Harry's neck, causing both boys in the room to shiver. "That's lovely. With whom? The four of us should double."

_Like hell,_ thought Ron. "I had a date with Hermione."

Ginny fell from Harry's lap, landing on the floor with a thud. Unfortunately, the shirt rode up just enough that her very brief underwear were exposed to her older brother.

"Bloody hell, Ginny, cover yourself up!" Ron turned his back, going to the kitchen cabinet for some firewhiskey.

"You had a date with Hermione? The same Hermione who's been married for five years?" she screeched. With an extraordinary amount of pride, she rose, pushing the shirt back down to hide her black undies.

Ron held up his hands. "She's divorced, Gin. And then I come home to find you and Harry…._shagging_, of all things! And now you're engaged! This is unbelievable! Well, I can promise you one thing," he shouted angrily, downing the shot.

"Oh yeah, and what's that?"

"This isn't going to happen!"

"_WHAT?"_

He smirked. "I see you've forgotten that in magical families, particularly pureblood ones, a daughter needs her father's blessing before she can even technically accept a marriage proposal. You aren't engaged and I promise dad'll never agree to this."

"Why the hell not?"

"Because you're too young."

"I am twenty-one years old, Ronald Bilius Weasley!"

"You aren't getting married, and that's final!"

"'And that's final'?" she cackled, turning to Harry. "He thinks he's my father now!"

"Gin, maybe you should calm down," Harry suggested, standing beside her cautiously. The line between fact and fiction had blurred so suddenly he could almost believe she was honestly upset. He knew she hated being told what to do, but they weren't actually engaged.

Surprisingly, she did calm down. She shivered at the feeling his hand on her shoulder provoked, and felt her resolve melt at the nickname she hadn't heard from his lips in five years. "You're right, Harry. Let's go to my flat, you can't very well room with this git tonight."

She didn't bother to get dressed. She put her arms around Harry and said loudly, "Don't worry about your things, Harry, you won't need clothes tonight." With a loud pop, she Apparated both of them away.

Furious, Ron went over the bureau, and picked up his quill.

_Mum and Dad_, he wrote angrily,

_Ginny's really done it this time._

He went back to the bottle of firewhiskey and twisted the cap off. He looked down at the glass he had been using and chuckled. Rethinking, he closed the bottle again and returned it to the shelf. He moved over to the fireplace and took a pinch of powder; praying the person he needed would be home.

He thrust his head into the fire and called, "Hermione?"

The apartment was what he expected: flawlessly clean, organized, subtly feminine. An inviting couch rested against the far wall, the mantle held a barrage of pictures with smiling Harry, Ron, and Hermione's laughing and teasing each other the most frequently. Hermione looked up from her place in an armchair that faced the fireplace. Her sleek hair was tied up in a bun and she looked at him over her reading glassed, the book in her lap looked about six pounds.

"Ron?" she asked, surprised.

"Yeah, it's me. Could I come over?"

She frowned, then her expression softened. "I'll make us some tea."

OoOoOo

"Harry?"

Harry's eyes popped open in surprise, quickly examining his surroundings. He was in the dark in Ginny's living room, on Ginny's couch. He remembered now, coming out of his dream slowly.

"What's wrong?" he asked, searching the room for her. His eyes found her hovering in the hallway, wrapped up in her dressing gown. She'd found him one of Ron's old Cannons shirt, and he was rather comfortable in her cool, one bedroom flat.

"Nothing," she mumbled, moving into the room and sitting on the arm of the couch, opposite Harry. Her hair was down, and she played with a strand, curling it around her index finger.

He rolled his eyes. "Ginny, spill."

"Harry, I wanted to ask you something."

"What is it?"

She sighed. "Why didn't you…come back for me after the final battle?"

Harry flinched, knowing he didn't want to have this conversation, but that it was probably inevitable.

"Ginny…You know what your family went through when Fred died. You must know I wasn't in any shape to…be with anyone in a healthy relationship. I stayed here for a few months, but even being around Ron and Hermione was painful. I couldn't…I couldn't be around _you _when it was difficult to be around _me._ I went to Argentina to get my thoughts together, to be around a place with a significantly lower concentration of wizards and a place where no one would know who I was."

She nodded, but still looked uncertain. "But what about after? Why didn't you come back when you were put back together emotionally?"

He hesitated. "Are you sure you want the answer to that question?"

"Yes," she answered resolutely.

"I came back, a year after I left. I was going to try to patch things up between us, and beg your forgiveness for disappearing. I was…I was going to ask you to marry me. You had just finished school and were well into your first season playing for the minors, West Ham Witches. You were actually moving into this flat when I came into town. I talked Ron into telling me where you lived, though he didn't want to. And that's when I saw who was helping you move."

Her eyes widened in recognition. "Dean? You saw me with Dean that day?"

He nodded. "Yeah. The two of you were sitting on this couch, kissing. I didn't even go back to Ron's flat. I just took an emergency portkey back to Buenos Aires. I didn't come back for another two years."

When he looked back at her, he was astonished to see she was crying. "I missed you so much that year," she confessed. "Dean went back with me to Hogwarts and we did our seventh year together. Falling back into that relationship I can honestly say was the biggest mistake of my life. I didn't love him and he didn't love me. It took us another six months to realize that."

"Gin, don't cry," he rubbed her arm helplessly. "I didn't tell you that to make you cry."

"I know that, Harry."

But his intentions didn't matter at that moment. She got up from the couch and walked into her bedroom, without looking back.

OoOoOoO


	4. Revenge is Sweet

"So, Ron, you couldn't be away from me for three hours?" Hermione smirked at him from over her cup of tea, blowing on the liquid gently.

"Er…no."

Her brow furrowed. "What's wrong?"

Snuggling further into her comfortable couch, he said, "Harry and Ginny say they're getting married."

Her eyes widened. "Harry _Potter_ and Ginny _Weasley_ are getting married? Haven't they been estranged the last five years?"

"Apparently they've been making up all night," he snarled, thinking back with rage at the image of his little sister, whom he had always protected, straddling his best mate. "I can't believe she would say yes. He abandoned her five years ago."

"Did you know they were going on a date tonight?"

He shifted guiltily. "Erm…yeah, but it was just a date, you know, between friends. I didn't expect them to come home and jump into bed!"

Hermione's face was calculating, like she was double checking his story. After all, she always knew when he was lying to her – or if he was hiding just a bit of the truth.

"You didn't seem upset earlier, on our date…"

He smiled. "I was too happy to see you."

She looked thoughtful, but not as if she was trying to find a flaw in his story. "Can you believe we went five years without speaking? I think the last time was-"

"At the wedding reception," he finished, leaning over and taking her hand in his. "That was the last time we spoke."

Meeting his eyes, she mused, "I always wondered why you gave me the cold shoulder on my special day."

He tried for nonchalance. "I was watching the girl I loved get married," he said simply. "It was bound to tear my heart out."

She moved closer, holding his gaze fiercely. "You have to believe…I tried so hard to get over what happened…with us…but when I finally did heal, I was twenty years old and unhappily married. I couldn't…"

"You don't have to explain anything to me," he said quietly.

"I wish I could explain it. I was a prat, wasn't I?"

He laughed softly. "No, we both mucked us up pretty well," he said. "I hope it isn't too late."

"I'm going to sleep. I'll see you for lunch." She rose stiffly, still facing away from him, and walked into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

Ron groaned, laying his head back onto the cushion, wondering just what the hell was going on with his life. Hermione Granger had sashayed her way back into his heart, but now he suspected that his own mistakes in the past were never going to let him rest. His little sister, his Ginny was going to get _married _to his best mate. It was his worst nightmare.

Almost as if someone was deliberately torturing him. "Merlin, my life sucks."

OoOoOoO

Harry awoke on the couch again, but this time Ginny wasn't hovering over him in the darkness. It was morning and from the banging in the kitchen, Harry could only assume Ginny was up making breakfast. He got up clumsily, aching from the night on the couch. At his flat he owned a luxurious king sized bed, something his back was yearning for right about now.

Rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses, he sucked in a breath when he was confronted by the vision of Ginny puttering around her kitchen. _She is absolutely gorgeous, _he decided. _And she's also going to drive me mad._

She spared him a glance. "Morning, Harry."

"Mornin'," he mumbled, trying desperately not to admire her lean legs that were almost completely exposed by her short shorts. "What are your plans for today?"

She stumbled toward the stove, slamming it accidentally onto the burner. Her pale arm was disturbingly close to the flame when he reached out to steady her. Before she could stop herself, she leaned back into his arms.

_Don't do this to yourself, you idiot!_

Pulling away, she flashed him a grateful smile. "I've got a last minute practice. And then the family's getting together at the Burrow."

He thought a minute. "Your mum already invited me, but…should we go together? Or do you want to tell Ron and get it over with?"

_This isn't because I like him_, she told herself sternly. "I don't think telling Ron would be a good idea. And if you're going, we should be there on a date. I don't know about you, but I don't think Ron's suffered nearly enough."

"To be fair, he didn't dump us for just any witch. He's been in love with Hermione for twelve years."

"Yeah, Harry, but what if I really was as pathetic as Ron told you? What if you had to break my poor little heart again? He didn't think about what it might do to us if he set us up, and lying about our feelings. Would you have liked if I had gone in there, patronizing you the way Ron planned?"

"No," he answered quietly. "I would have hated it."

"Exactly. He should have just told you he needed to go on a date with Hermione. Would you have been angry at him or made him stay?"

"Of course not. He's loved her for so long, if I'd known I would've wished him all sorts of luck and then hidden out at the Burrow until the date was over."

"And he should have known that. So all I'm saying is, let's have some fun."

He grinned. "I'm not sure we can do any more damage then we did last night. Did you see his face when he came in? I thought he'd have a stroke when he saw you on my lap!"

"I couldn't look away from his shocked expression," she lied. _Oh, who am I kidding? I didn't look away from those eyes…all sparkling…_ She shook her head.

"So, what are your plans for today?" she asked casually.

His smile slipped for a brief second. "Er…well, I can't really go back to the flat, so I was thinking I could watch practice. Do you think Gwenog would be okay with that?"

Ginny pictured the knowing look that was sure to appear on the face of her mentor. "I think she'll be pleased to meet you."

He snorted. "Yeah, I'm sure she would."

She frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "It's just…"

She nodded. The Holyhead Harpies had a reputation for two things: kicking ass on the field and hating men off the field. She loved playing and loved her teammates, but sometimes Ginny, having grown up in a houseful of men, couldn't understand where all the hostility towards testosterone came from.

"Yeah, some of the girls are kind of intense."

"It's not like I have a problem with…you know, with _girls_ liking _girls _or anything. I've just heard men aren't always welcome at matches."

She laughed. "They aren't all lesbians, if that's what you're getting at. The other starting beater is seeing the one of the reserves casually, and our keeper has expressed interest in me in particular, but Gwenog has a boyfriend."

"Really?" asked Harry. The captain of the Harpies was beautiful in a rugged sense, he had to admit, but he couldn't really picture her with a man.

She retrieved two tea cups from the cabinet and used her wand to cool the handle of the pot. She poured them each a cup and sat down at the kitchen table. "Yeah, they've been seeing each other for years now. They almost broke up, though, last year because he proposed."

"And that's a bad thing?" He hadn't thought it possible, but he was actually vaguely interested in the working of a Harpie's mind.

Laughing again, she said, "In Quidditch it is. He works pretty high up in the Ministry, and it isn't really good for the team for us to get pregnant while we're on contract. If we did, everyone would lose a lot of training time. Anyway, he said he wanted kids, and she said she didn't. Gwenog's great, and she's like a mum to everyone on the team – even me, but she doesn't have many maternal instincts. She says it'll be a cold day Merlin's pants before she's carted off the field on maternity leave."

Tea came out of Harry's nose.

OoOoOoO

It was seven o'clock, hours after their talk in the kitchen, and Harry was having a hard time keeping his eyes from Ginny. After a splendid breakfast, they'd spent most of the day at the Harpies practice pitch, him watching Ginny fly around and ultimately own the exercises. It wasn't hard to tell she was leagues ahead of her fellow chasers in talent – and he knew Captain Jones could see it too.

Gwen was in charge of her team, but the way she interacted with the girls compared to Ginny, he knew that she had an idea of who she would choose to succeed her, if the time ever came. Ginny was almost solely in charge of coming up with Chaser strategy that had to conform to Gwen's overall game plan, and Harry could tell Ginny was being groomed.

Ginny had looked so beautiful zooming around the field that he was instantly mesmerized.

"Are you ready, Harry? Remember, we're going out for drinks with the girls straight after dinner."

To Ginny's amazement, Harry was a huge hit with her team, even those whose preferences didn't exactly match with his gender. He'd spent the afternoon charming all of the women, throwing her glances, as if asking for approval. She'd nodded to him every time, loving that he was fitting in so well. And it did wonders for her other Chasers – Melody and Kia had never been in better form than when Harry was cheering them on from the stands.

Then Gwenog had called her into the office while the others were hitting the showers, and asked her to invite Harry along for a get together the girls were having that evening.

Ginny had never been more surprised in her life. It was hard getting invited to drink with the Holyhead Harpies, who went out to the most exclusive wizard dance club in London – Magik. It was a sign of good faith to be allowed into practice at all, something Ginny knew was mostly because Harry was the Chosen One, but she didn't think Gwenog would invite Harry if that were the only reason.

"How could I forget?" he said, grinning. "But Gin?"

"Yeah?" They stopped just outside the front door of the Burrow.

"I don't want to offend you or anything, but going to practice with you doesn't sound…"

She instantly understood. "It doesn't sound very romantic."

He blushed. "Yeah, I was thinking we should tell them I took you back to Buenos Aires, and showed you around. Maybe we went to see some ruins or something in Chile."

_I wish that were true_, she thought pathetically. "I think that sounds way lovelier then watching me get all sweaty doing drills."

He gulped. "Err…yeah. I think that sounds good." _Don't think so dirty, you arse!! Oh Merlin, why did she have to say that just before I hug her mother?!_


	5. Hanging with the Harpies

"Harry James Potter, how are you?" He hadn't been in the Burrow for half a second before he was engulfed in a famous Molly Weasley hug. It had been five years since he'd seen her – and that had been just after the second Battle for Hogwarts. Looking up into her smiling face, still thinner than normal, having never gotten over the war, Harry was struck by an immense guilt over having abandoned them all. Mrs. Weasley was the closest thing he'd ever had for a mother, and he hadn't so much as owled the poor woman.

Giving her a squeeze, he murmured, "It's great to see you, Mum."

She let out a breath, pulling away and brushing his hair back from his forehead. "We missed you so much, Harry. I hope you're back for good."

He shrugged, hating the lie even more than he had before. It was bad enough he was hurting his best mate and now furiously attracted to his pretend fiancé, but he was deceiving Molly Weasley, the woman who let him call her mum. "I didn't plan on it, really, but I don't have many obligations in Argentina."

"He does have obligations here, apparently," muttered Ron darkly. He was sitting at the kitchen table with a sullen look on his face. In fact, Harry was greeted by angry looks from all the rest of the Weasley brothers, save Fred and George's whose eyes shone with a mischievous glint.

"Should I be afraid?" Harry asked apprehensively.

"Oh, I'd say so," confirmed Bill.

Ginny chose that moment to walk in, having shaken her mother off in the living room. Arthur was late getting home from the Ministry, his job at the Department of Muggle Relations a busy place after the fall of Voldemort.

"Leave him alone, Bill Weasley."

"Ginny," Harry whined, pulling her body close to his, trying his hardest not to admire her soft, lean frame. "Protect me from these bullies."

Picking up his playful mood, she nibbled on his ear, making sure the boys got an eyeful. "Poor Hawwy. Maybe we should skip dinner completely. I could take you to my flat; we could go over some wedding plans, maybe take a bath…"

Harry swallowed audibly, but managed to hold onto his composure. "We could go back to your flat," he admitted. "But then, your bed's sort of small for the activities that inevitably follow one of our communal bathes. Ron's got a king-sized…do you think he'd let us borrow it for the afternoon?"

She kissed his cheek, breaking away and taking her seat at the table. "What do you say, Ronnie? I think we could have the flat returned to you by two or three tomorrow morning."

Ron was maroon, his mouth opening and closing rancorously.

Mrs. Weasley entered the kitchen at that moment, Arthur at her heels. Noticing her sons frozen as though Stupefied, she did the only thing she could do. She went to the stove and began serving the meal.

"So, how was everyone's day?" she asked cheerfully.

OoOoOo

Magik was exactly like the movies Harry had seen on Dudley's television. The people were beautiful and aloof, the dance floor was packed and jumping, and the in between the flickering of pulsating overhead lights, the building was dark and personal.

That, coupled with the fact that he had a gorgeous redhead on his arm, made him feel very relaxed.

"Where's the team meeting?" he asked.

She leaned over, brushing her lips over his ear as a new techno beat started. "We've got our own room. VIP, and all that rubbish."

She led him by the hand towards the back of the club and into a separate section. He was greeted by all the Harpies, and every team member looked stunning.

"Harry Potter," greeted Gwen Jones, shaking his hand firmly. "Care for a dance?"

Shocked, Harry looked straight at Ginny, who shrugged. _Gwenog Jones wants to dance with me? Hell, if Gwenog Jones wants me to dance with her, I'll dance with her. Plus, it might just get my mind out of the gutter and away from Ginny._

"It would only be the greatest pleasure of my life," replied Harry amiably. Gwen winked at the team behind his back as he led her by the hand onto the dance floor, Ginny staring at them all the way.

"Oi, what's got Weasley's knickers in a twist?" called Delia, the other starting beater.

_This isn't because I _like_ Harry or anything. We're just giving Ron the punishment he deserves. Cuddling, kissing, and teasing him in front of my brothers is just to keep up the charade. I'm not _jealous _of Gwenog for dancing with Harry._

"Poor Harry," said Meg, the keeper. "Looks like Gwen's taking him out for quite the broom ride." The other girls in the group giggled.

Her stomach giving an unfriendly twist, she spotted the two dancing closely on the floor. Harry's hands rested firmly on Gwen's petite waist, and her arms were around his neck. The music had changed from the upbeat techno jam and was now a soft, slow-dance song.

_You knew from the very first day, _the song crooned. Gwen nuzzled Harry's neck, and he whispered something in her ear, holding her securely. _I never intended to stay._

"I need a firewhiskey." _I was just running away._

The girls all threw her knowing looks, smiling wickedly. She wasn't in the mood for hearing their theories on how jealous Ginny was of Gwen. It didn't matter; Harry wasn't really interested in her anymore. Ginny would only ever be his friend, no matter what the few weeks shared at Hogwarts had told her.

_I just can't blame you at all. I've been on both sides of that wall. _

Harry looked up from his partner, to Ginny who was watching from the bar. She took a vicious shot of whiskey, something that tipped him off to some sort of problem she was having. She looked at him, without making eye contact, and Gwenog, and the hollowness made his throat ache. Could Ginny possibly be feeling something for him? He brushed the thought away almost as soon as he'd had it. Ginny had long since moved on from their adolescent affair; she was looking for a real relationship now, not to rekindle some dysfunctional one. Still, the pain in her eyes was unmistakable. _I never meant to do you, any wrong. I still think about the time, we had together. _

"What are you thinking about, Potter?" Gwen said, her head resting on his shoulder. Her hips were moving dangerously close to his own, but he tried not to let it affect him. He could already tell Gwen was an impulsive kind of woman, and he was thoroughly enjoying their dance. It was hard to tell when at the pitch, because of her enormous personality, but Gwenog Jones was startlingly tiny. She couldn't be 5'5", and her weight was probably all muscle.

"What is it about Quidditch players that makes them refer to everyone by their last name?" he asked, obviously dodging her question.

Luckily she was as perceptive as she was gorgeous. "I dunno Potter, perhaps we can't be bothered to learn first names. All we need to know is on the back of a jersey."

"Somehow I really doubt that, Jones."

She slapped him on the back. "You aren't part of the Quidditch players club, Potter, you can't go around calling people by their last names."

"You do shabby research, Jones, I was the youngest seeker in a century in my school days," he usually hated using stats like that, but it was so easy to banter with her.

"I knew that, you git," she said sweetly.

"Ginny told me you were seeing someone, why isn't he here?"

"Didn't you just assume I bat for the other team?" she asked, laughing merrily.

He flushed. "Erm…actually, I sort of did. But Gin set me straight."

She coughed back another laugh. "She should work with our keeper!"

"Gwenog!" he protested.

"Joking, Potter, joking!"

"Are you going to answer my question?"

"We aren't exactly happy at the moment," she admitted. "I broke it off with him yesterday, but I haven't mentioned it to any of the girls…"

"Don't worry about it," he assured her. "My lips are sealed."

"I hope not," she murmured, pulling him in for a sound, and forceful kiss, which he returned politely enough. Then he remembered, with a shiver, the feel of Ginny's lips on his ear just hours before.

He broke the kiss, looking into her eyes with an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Gwenog, but…"

She waved him off with her hand. "It's not a big deal. I'm still somewhat in love with my moron of a boyfriend, and you are arse over elbows for Weasley."

"What?" His smile became forced.

"You don't think I'd audition my best player's future husband?"

"Gwenog, what you have to understand it that _we aren't engaged._ Not for real, anyway."

She smiled at him. "Ginny tells me everything. But I know she's got it bad for you, and for anyone to break off a kiss with me, they've got to have it bad for someone else. I'm guessing you've got it for Ginny, because if there was another girl in your life, you wouldn't have a pretend fiancé, now would you?"

"Merlin, you're amazing!"

"I know it."

The dance was over soon enough, and she pulled him over to the corner of the bar where he'd seen Ginny a few minutes before.

The bartender greeted Gwen warmly, pouring her a drink before she could order anything.

"Hey, Hugo, have you seen Ginny Weasley?"

He nodded. "She had three shots and left for home. She looked a little nauseous."

Gwen frowned looking at Harry. "Ginny can hold her alcohol. I think something else is wrong."

With a jolt, Harry realized she must have witnessed his kiss with Gwen. But if that was true, then what Gwen thought must also be correct. Ginny had some sort of feelings for him!

"I'd better go," he said, giving Gwen a swift kiss on the cheek. "Do you need help getting home? I can find you a floo if you can't Apparate."

"You're a gent, Potter. But no, I'm fine. Go get her."

OoOoOoO


	6. There's Gotta Be A Way Out

_A/N: Oh! Before I forget again, the song at the club was, of course, not my own work. I took snippets of 'BBQ and Foam' written by Ed Vizard, but performed by Joe Ely on his album Live at Liberty Lunch. Yeah, it wouldn't ever really be played in a hot dance club, but it's a very deep, emotional song, and I thought it fit almost perfectly with the Harry/Ginny situation. Thanks for all the reviews – I really appreciate them!_

"Ginny?" called Harry the second he apparated into her darkened apartment. The front room was empty, but as he crept closer to bedroom he thought he could hear her crying. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. She was huddled under the blankets, and he could hear her muffled sobs.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he asked, "Ginny, are you alright?"

"Why are you here Harry?" she asked, voice thick. "I thought you'd be at Gwenog's flat. She never wastes much time."

"Gin, what you saw…it was a friendly kiss. It didn't mean anything to either of us."

"You don't have to explain anything to me, Harry, we aren't seeing each other. We haven't loved each other since we were seventeen."

"Don't say that when you don't mean it," he warned. "And you sure as hell shouldn't presume to tell _me _when I've loved you."

Turning to face him, she scowled. "I think you made that pretty clear the other night. You stopped loving me when you saw me with Dean. I don't think you would have left me for five years if you loved me, especially if you were about to propose."

That had been the only thing on her mind since he'd told her the night before. She imagined Harry with a ring, down on one knee, confessing his love and saying he was sorry, so sorry for abandoning her so thoughtlessly. But if he loved her would he have given up so easily?

"I loved you, Ginny, but I was having trouble reconciling the image of you with Dean's _tongue_ down your throat. And excuse me if I needed a bloody year to recuperate from killing VOLDEMORT!"

"IF YOU HATE ME SO MUCH, THEN WHY ARE YOU HERE? GO SHAG GWENOG! I'm sure she'll still accept you at her place."

"Why did it bother you to see us kiss?"

She rolled over, curling into herself. "I don't know." Gwen's lips touching her Harry's made her physically ill. Even Hugo the hot bartender and her sometimes shagging partner, winking in her direction hadn't chased the image out of her mind. She had burned with such an intense jealously she'd had to get back home as fast as possible.

"Gin –"

Before he knew it her lips were on his, kissing him desperately. "I want this Harry, tonight," she whispered.

He paused for a second and Ginny nearly sunk into the bed in shame and disappointment, when he came back to her mouth in aggression, parting her lips expertly with his tongue. "I want it too," he growled.

OoOoOoO

When Harry awoke the next morning, he was alone. For a brief, disappointing second, the thought he had dreamt the whole incident, that he hadn't even left Argentina. But then he took a breath and smelled the flowery scent of her hair. _I slept with Ginny Weasley, _he thought. Where the redheaded goddess was, well, that was a mystery.

He rose from the bed shakily, throwing on his jeans, memories from the night before flashing through his mind. It had been amazing; definitely nothing like his previous conquests. The other times had all been in Argentina, with anonymous women speaking a version of Spanish his translator charm was not one hundred percent capable of sorting. With Ginny, though, he had the distinct impression they were speaking _exactly _the same language.

He found her sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of tea. Her eyes were red, but she wouldn't meet his gaze. She looked stunning, as usual, in his boxer shorts and grey undershirt.

"Ginny?" he asked cautiously.

She held up her hand. It was meant to stem his speech, but the gesture was so half-hearted that it came off as more of a signal of surrender. Harry felt horrible; hating himself for giving into her the night before. She obviously hadn't been in her right mind, and he'd taken advantage of her momentary lapse of judgment. Perhaps a foolish jealousy of Gwenog had caused her to make the abrupt decision, but either way he should have been a gentleman and turned her down politely.

Then, an image of her defeated face when he'd pulled away convinced him that turning her away would have been the absolute last thing he was capable of.

"I don't want to talk about it, Harry. Get ready; mum's invited us for breakfast." Her voice was hard and steady, and held nothing of the anguish so prevalent on her face.

"Er, alright. I'll, uh, take a shower?" He hadn't meant for it to come out like a question, but he heard the end of the word 'shower' perk up. Merlin, he sounded whiny.

While Harry was in the shower, Ginny ran through the events of the night before. Seeing Harry snog Gwenog was a wake up call; snapping her into action. Suddenly, she realized that Harry would, mostly likely in a short amount of time, be out of her life again. His green eyes wouldn't twinkle when they focused on her, he wouldn't wake up on her couch with his horrid bed head, and he most certainly would never love her.

So she'd asked. She had behaved like a harlot; nearly begging him. Though it was, without competition, the best experience of her entire life, she couldn't shake the feeling that it was wholly a pity shag. It had been phenomenal; _magical _even. She snorted into her tea at her own joke.

"What the hell is my problem?"

It was useless to deny. She wanted to be with him. She wanted to love him. The only problem with that was he wouldn't ever want her that way. Sure, he hadn't complained last night; she knew he was attracted to her, but somehow being attracted to someone never translated even a little bit into a relationship. Perhaps, she reflected, that was where she'd gone wrong with Dean. She'd found him attractive, still did as a matter of fact, but as far as compatibility went…

She got it wrong every time.

She heard the shower shut off, and she scurried into her room, gathering Harry's clothes from her bedroom floor and tossing them onto the couch. Cowardly as it was, she hid until she was absolutely sure he was dressed before peaking out, fully covered herself. She pulled her auburn hair into a ponytail and moved to the floo without looking at Harry.

She didn't think she could stand to see the regret in his eyes. He would undoubtedly be panicking, thinking he had somehow committed to a serious relationship. She couldn't bear to tell him he was off the hook; at least not just yet. She would live the fantasy with her family for a little while longer, until the last second. And then they would tell her mum and dad and brothers it had all been a horrible joke. And then Harry would leave her. Again.

OoOoOoO

Harry felt irrationally jumpy as he walked into the living room at the Burrow. He felt sure all of the males in the house could sense he and Ginny had slept together, although the logical part of his brain told him it was impossible, and that Ginny had already _told _Ron they were sleeping together. At least before he had had the comfort of knowing they were mistaken in that department. He felt incredibly guilty and watched his back as he inched his way through the door to the kitchen, Ginny having already brushed past him.

The Weasley boys still looked furious with him, even Ron who wasn't known to hold grudges. He and Bill were sporting red faces, something he found odd since he and Ginny hadn't done anything differently since the dinner the past night.

His answer came in the form of Mr. Weasley inviting him out to the shed. "Harry, may I have a word with you, son?"

Harry turned to Ginny, who was pointedly refusing to meet his gaze, and then followed Arthur out the back door, his back sporting holes from the glares of the men.

"How are you, Mr. Weasley?" asked Harry nervously from the door to the shed. Arthur motioned him inside with a swipe of his hand, and nodded his head agreeably. The place looked the same as ever; Mr. Weasley's various projects strewn around the counter space and a monitoring charm to check for Molly was triggered by a step on the front path.

"I'm doing fabulously, Harry, but I've come to talk to you. I've heard about your plans to get married, and it's my duty as Ginny's father to put my two cents in. It's nothing personal and I hope you won't be offended to know I considered declining, something that's within my right as her father."

Harry nodded.

"But I would never actually do that," Arthur continued, fiddling absently with a sparkplug. "That law hasn't been serious for nearly fifty years. I know Ginny would resent me forever if I chose to veto her choice for a husband, and I must say that in this case, I completely agree with the man she's chosen to wed."

"What?" spluttered Harry.

"I'm giving you my consent, Harry, and I'm giving you my blessing." The older man pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose and rubbed his balding head. "I wholeheartedly approve. I know the boys are giving you a rough time, especially Ron, but I want you to know they'll come around."

Harry didn't know quite what to do, so he held out his hand for Ginny's father to shake. "Thank you, sir. I really appreciate your confidence."

_What are Ginny and I going to do?_

OoOoOoO

All through breakfast, Harry's eyes didn't leave her. She wondered, foolishly, a few times if she didn't have something on her face. But when she brushed her cheek for traces of marmalade, he only winked and smiled at her. She tried not to let it speed up her heart rate, but after the night they had spent together she wasn't sure it was possible for her heart to slow when Harry was on the same continent.

They went back to the flat after the family gathering, and the first thing he did was fill her in on the conversation he had with her father.

"He _approved?_" she screeched. "He's – Harry, don't take any offense, okay, but dad was the one who condemned you the worst after you left! He said you treated my horribly and that he hoped you never came back to England! Now he's giving you a blessing?"

Harry put his head in his hands, falling down onto the couch. "He said he trusts your choice and agrees. I didn't know what to say."

"You do realize we can't tell them it was a joke now? After he's forgiven you? And it will do Ron more harm then good."

"I know Ron," Harry agreed. "If he figures out we tricked him he will go mental."

"So what are we going to do?"

"I have no idea."

She went into the kitchen, knocking around the kettle to make tea. Harry heard a massive crash and flew into the kitchen to see what was wrong. "Gin – "

"I've got it!" she cried, pulling him into a victorious hug. "We'll break up!"

"I think we did that once," he said dryly.

She gave him an unfriendly look. "No! We just have to break up in front of them!"

He thought about it, and finished her next sentence. "Then I'll storm away and move back to Argentina, and you'll stay at the Burrow and cancel the wedding! You're brilliant!" And without thinking about it, without planning it, without thinking about the fact that he should never do it again; Harry kissed her.

She let out a strangled gasp, hands immediately seeking his head and pulling him so close the momentum from his body pushed her against the wall. She kissed him hungrily, and only when his tongue slipped easily into her mouth did she break the trance and push him away.

"I can't do this, Harry," she whispered, and ran into her bedroom.


	7. Another Proposal

Harry fell onto the couch in a heap, sighing deeply. He didn't know what was wrong with Ginny, or himself for that matter. Where was the _real _Ginny Weasley? The Ginny he knew and had spent the last night with, would have thrown herself into one of his kisses. She wouldn't have whispered her rejection; she would have screamed it. It was her way. Ginny was a rough, strong woman, and she sure as hell wasn't acting like it.

He had a feeling Ginny was having a hard time finding the old Harry. He shook his head, wondering how on Earth he could have allowed things to get so out of control. His childish anger at Ron had led him into a complicated web of lies. Then he foolishly fell into bed with Ginny – something that had been amazing, but all the same, ill-advised – and then kiss her, complicating everything more, after she came up with a solution.

_Merlin, I'm an idiot, _he thought miserably. It seemed like one mistake after false step. The whirlwind seemed such a sharp contrast from their practically nonexistent relationship the last five years. _I shouldn't have left_, he realized, years too late. _I should've pummeled Dean into the ground and fought for her! I had just killed Voldemort, _he berated himself. _I could have made more of an effort to include Ginny in my life._

But he hadn't. He went away and hid in Argentina, unemployed and having meaningless affairs with women whose names he could never remember. Again, the enormity of his mistakes fell down upon him.

_I am a worthless berk._

OoOoOo

"I am a worthless berk," Ginny whispered aloud. She was a coward, a loser, a liar. She told Harry she _couldn't _do it, but in reality she just _wouldn't._ The risk of hurting, of opening herself up to Harry's unpredictable moods and whims was just too much. Sure, she could push past her insecurities and start a relationship with him – a real one this time – but she wasn't sure she would ever heal from the wounds accumulated from the war and the long years after.

The look of absolute bewilderment on Harry's face flashed through her mind and froze her heart. She couldn't imagine what was going through his head now. First she had thrown herself at him, and then the next day she was pulling away as though _she _were the injured party. It was utterly ridiculous the way he stayed after the way she treated him. She'd practically ruined his moment with Gwenog, and then seduced him, and now she was slamming doors on him. It would serve her right if he went back home and left her to deal with her family alone.

_I'm in love with him,_ she thought pathetically. Thinking back on the night before she could almost imagine he was in love with her too, instead of enamored by her Quidditch defined body. Examining the memories of him lacing their fingers together, kissing her gently on the forehead, and snuggling her close instead of leaving, Ginny began to wonder if there wasn't something more to the way Harry thought about her. Could he love her? She was beginning to run out of excuses for her own tumultuous moods; it was obvious why she was so testy. She was in love with Harry Potter, but too afraid to tell him.

She was really beginning to piss herself off.

OoOoO

"Ron Weasley, what the bloody hell are you doing in my kitchen?" asked Hermione playfully, though she was actually surprised to find her sort-of-boyfriend frying eggs and bacon in her cobwebbed pans. She hated to cook, but in the divorce settlement she had received most of the kitchen, including half of Anthony's prized wine collection (she'd had noticeable trouble disguising her snigger at his shocked face when her lawyer assured him she _was_ interested in them, though she was a known teetotaler), and Mrs. Granger assured her that if she sold the incredibly expensive cookware she would one day regret it.

Watching Ron, shirtless with his trousers hugging his lower body, cooking her breakfast, Hermione knew exactly what her mum had been talking about. _I would have hated to miss this._

He looked over his shoulder and grinned at her. "Making you breakfast, you ungrateful witch." He winked.

"I am a witch," she agreed, going over to the breakfast table and taking a seat. She looked at the clock above the stove and then promptly over to the window, knowing the Prophet would be arriving at precisely ten o'clock. Sure enough, not a minute later an owl soared through the open window, dropping her newspaper on the table. It was a tawny. Shaking its feathers regally, it thrust a leg under Hermione's nose, signaling for her to place her five sickles in the leather pouch.

She watched it fly away with a solemn look on her face.

"What?" asked Ron, watching her intently.

She shook her head. "I've been meaning to get an owl."

"Didn't Harry buy you one for your seventeenth?" He grimaced at the name of his best mate, the man who was marrying his little sister without his permission.

She gave him a sad smile. "He did. Her name was Rowena, but she didn't survive the war. Someone intercepted her while she was carrying a letter with Order business to McGonagall. I didn't have her but two months."

Ron thought about his now practically decrepit owl, Pig. He wasn't any good for deliveries anymore, not that he had been reliable before, but Ron held an eternal soft sport for the bird. He lived with Hagrid and Olympe Maxine in France at the moment. The couple ran a farm with disowned or elderly animals – a tribute to Buckbeak, Norberta (though, as hard as Hagrid tried he couldn't get a license from the Ministry to hold dragons on the reserve), and Aragog.

It was common knowledge a mysterious deposit was made to the reserve's Gringotts account every month; around ten thousand galleons. Ron always suspected it was Harry, but his friend vehemently denied any involvement.

And he was back to his original problem: Harry. His best mate was going to marry his little sister. After leaving her five years ago to be comforted by _Dean Thomas_ of all people, Harry had swept his way back into Ginny's life and she hadn't even questioned it. The first night, seeing her straddling Harry's lap almost gave Ron a heart attack, and not just because he wished Ginny was an innocent virgin, but because as her older brother he hated seeing her in pain and intuition told him that being with Harry would be more trouble then it's worth.

"Don't worry about Ginny," Hermione said gently, prying into his thoughts. "She's a big girl, smarter and braver than I am, and she always takes care of herself first."

"I know she does when it's a regular guy she's with," he admitted. "But what about when she's with Harry?" _Can she see past her adoration and put herself first? _He knew Harry's disposition and he knew Ginny's, and still he wondered if the relationship was a good idea.

OoOoO

"You can't get married!" bellowed Ron, shaking the picture frames of the Burrow's sitting room.

"You have no right to tell us what to do," replied Ginny hotly. Harry thought she looked gorgeous in her green tank top and denim skirt. He was still conflicted about his feelings, but he had to admit their night together hadn't left his thoughts.

"Ginny and I are together," Harry said firmly. He left _in love_ unsaid, because it felt like too much of a truth to tell. Of course, he knew where he stood, but Ginny had made no such declaration. He couldn't bring himself to say the words.

Ron was steadily turning magenta. "I don't understand! After he _left_ you, Ginny! How can you ever trust him again?"

"That was my own fault," Ginny whispered. "I should have been more understanding of Harry needing to be away from everyone. I got back together with Dean because I was hurting and feeling betrayed, but I should have been faithful to us," she said, now looking at Harry with a half-smile. "I knew you. I should have known time and distance couldn't touch us."

As she said the words, they became true, and she stunned Harry by sweeping him up in a searing kiss.

When they broke apart Ron had left the room.

"We have things to talk about," he told her. He felt a little dizzy from her lips, and was trying to figure out exactly what was going on. At what point had the acting fallen away and left them with true feelings? He picked apart her speech, wondering when, if at all, she began to mean the words coming from her mouth.

She nodded. "Yeah, we do. I – "

Alas, they were interrupted. Five Weasley men and Mrs. Weasley walked in, all smiling. "I think it's time we finally celebrated this engagement," said Mr. Weasley. "Now that we've earned everyone's stamp of approval."

Ron turned pink, shuffling his feet.

"I would like to say something," he said after a long pause. Everyone in the room turned to look at him, half afraid of what he might say to convince the couple to stay away from each other. "I've been a right arse," he concluded.

Harry personally agreed, but kept silent.

"I hated this idea from the beginning, mostly because I found out by walking in on you two snogging on my couch."

"Ronald!" scolded Mrs. Weasley, eyeing Harry and Ginny strangely.

"Sorry, mum. Anyway, I thought when I set you two up that you would have dinner, have a terrible time, and then I would be free to go out on a date with Hermione. I figured Ginny would still be too mad at Harry to talk much to him, and that you guys wouldn't be able to get out of the restaurant fast enough.

"Now I see how wrong I was. The reason I hated this idea so much was because my own anger at seeing the relationship between my sister and best mate mucked up five years ago wouldn't let me see that there are two people in front of me, looking into each others eyes, caring about what the other cares about, wanting to make each other happy. I see two people in love. And I wholeheartedly approve."

All the pieces of the puzzle flew into place for Harry. He looked at Ginny, her soft hair cascading around her shoulders, eyes wide. Her fingers plucked nervously at a stray thread on her skirt and she was biting her lip. Perhaps feeling his eyes on her, she turned to meet his gaze.

"I agree with Ron," said Bill, moving forward to shake Harry's hand. "You'll make a fine husband, Potter."

"We'll be calling Gin, Potter, from now on, I guess," said Charlie amiably, bumping his shoulder against Harry's.

Harry froze, surprised at how agreeable that idea suddenly sounded. "Ginny?" he said, turning toward her.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked, heart pounding at the intensity of his gaze.

"Would you…will you marry me? I mean, will you marry me for real?" He took a deep breath, praying she would answer in the affirmative. He couldn't imagine that twelve hours ago he had been planning to find a way out of this situation, when all he wanted now was to drag Ginny back to her flat and stay there together forever.

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

She gritted her teeth against the tears, finally giving up and letting them run down her cheeks. "Of course, I'll marry you," she chocked out.

He gathered her into his arms, placing a kiss on her cheeks, and then another on her lips. "Thank Merlin!"

They were so absorbed in their moment that they didn't notice the ripple of confusion in the room. Bill looked to Charlie, Charlie looked to Percy, Percy looked to Fred and George who looked to Ron, who shrugged. Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrow, but Molly was too busy tittering with happiness to take notice of the…inconsistencies.

"Am I missing something?"

OoOoO

A/N: There's one more chapter after this. I want to thank everyone who's reviewed, I'm glad even one person enjoyed this story.


	8. The Finale

Hermione shut the door to her bedroom, peaking nervously into the living room. As she suspected, there was Ron, sitting languidly on her couch. His brow was furrowed as he looked down at the board, playing a one-sided game of chess.

"Having troubles?" she asked him softly.

He looked up at her, grinning. "It always ends up as a tie. I stump myself," he said modestly.

"I know the feeling," she mumbled.

"What was that?" he asked, moving he queen to take his rook. He shook his head at the board.

"So, are you sleeping over tonight?" She screwed her eyes shut, only to snap them open when she felt his breath on her face.

"I was planning on it," he admitted. "I don't really like my flat anymore."

"I guessed as much. Anyway, I was wondering…the couch isn't very comfortable…and I've been thinking…"

"Say it, 'Mione. Don't be so shy," he chuckled, leaning over and resting his hands on the wall, on either side of her face. It was intimidating, his body so close to hers, but she took a deep breath.

"I want you to stay with me tonight. In my room," she clarified. She was sure her face was quite red.

"Oh, yeah? And what sort of activities would we be participating in, during this little sleep over? I have to make sure these are all something my mummy would approve of before I agree," he whispered.

"Don't be a prick about this," she warned. "I can easily go in there by myself." She knew it was a horrid lie, she wasn't going anywhere without him, but she felt it was essential to keeping her dignity. He didn't need to know how badly she wanted him.

"Then maybe you should be finding someone else to be of service," he said cheekily, leaning in further.

"I'm nervous, that's all. Do you remember last time we did this? It ended in disaster," she reminded him.

He sobered, the color draining from his face at the thought. That was the night he lost her forever. Or so he had thought.

_"It was perfect, Ron," she murmured sleepily, snuggling further into his chest. "I love you so much."_

_Ron froze, looking around the four poster bed worriedly. Voldemort was dead; was there really any rush anymore? Before, when he thought he and Harry and Hermione and his whole family were going to die, he had been able to say those words to her. 'I love you,' but now he wasn't sure if he meant them._

_"I…errr…"_

_She pulled back, looking at his flustered expression. "What's wrong?"_

_He gently pushed her from his arms and got up from the bed. He found his trousers, throwing them on hastily. Hermione watched him from the bed where she had pulled the bed sheet over her body._

_"I think we may be moving too quickly, here, Hermione."_

_She pursed her lips. "I see you didn't have those objections when the 'too quick' speed led us to be without clothes."_

_"Don't act as though I pushed you into anything! I'm not the bad guy here!"_

_"Oh, and I am the bad guy? Funny, I thought Harry killed him twelve hours ago," she cackled, now jumping from the bed, obviously not deterred by the fact that she was stark naked. "It's amazing; I never thought those boys my dad warned me were only thinking about one thing would be my best friend!"_

_"I'm sorry if I'm a little freaked out that we went from not dating, to sleeping together, to being in love in a matter of hours," he said, pulling on his shirt._

_"We've only been pining for each other for seven years, Ronald. It isn't as though I met you on the street and thought, 'He'd be a good fuck!' I really love how you're twisting this so I'm the scarlet woman!"_

_"I didn't even say that!" he protested angrily._

_"Anthony was right, I shouldn't be wasting my time with you," she remarked coldly, finally putting on her own trousers._

"It won't be like that this time, 'Mione," he said. "I love you, and I'm not afraid to let you know it."

She pulled him in for a kiss, telling him she was finally ready. It had been a long time since she'd felt his lips against hers, and she sighed at the once familiar sensation. It was impossible; how much she missed him.

OoOoOoO

Ginny awoke the next morning wrapped in the arms of her fiancé, Harry Potter. It was a brilliant feeling, being in his embrace after all their struggles and confessing their love. She smiled at the thought that her mum hadn't slept in over a week – she was determined to give the couple their dream wedding in just under two weeks. Ginny was apprehensive, naturally, but she didn't think for a moment she wasn't ready.

She had been waiting for Harry Potter almost seventeen years, since her father first told her the story of the Boy Who Lived, whose parents died because they loved him so very much. Ginny at four years old hadn't realized the solemnity of her vow, when she told her father she was going to love him just as much as his parents one day. And shortly she was going to become his wife.

"Good morning," rumbled Harry from beneath her. He was grinning from ear to ear, pulling her as close as possible.

"Morning," she answered cheerfully. "Was I dreaming, or did we get engaged again last night?"

"I think it must've happened. Because I _know_ I didn't dream up the celebratory activities," he said smirking. "I'm sore."

She giggled. "I'm glad I was able to keep you entertained, Mr. Potter."

"Indeed you were."

"Harry?"

"Yes, love?"

"Where are we going to live?"

It sounded very much like an offhanded question, but Harry could sense some tension in her tone of voice. He thought about it a minute, wondering if England wasn't the best place for his newfound family. If he took Ginny away from the rest of the Weasleys, there was sure to be some hurt and resentment directed at him; especially from Bill and Ron, who were (despite Ron's recent change of heart) the most difficult of her older brothers.

His accommodations in Argentina were suitable, he supposed. His home was nothing compared to the mammoth sized castle of Hogwarts, but he promised himself after Voldemort that he would never again live in a tiny room like the one he had at the Dursleys again. His house was located in the hills of a country side, surrounded by thick trees and brush. Not many locals even knew he lived there. The house itself was bright and airy, with touches of the native culture. He had completely stopped wearing his shoes in the house, charming them against the elements, but leaving all of them out on the porch. He couldn't very well make steak and kidney pie or treacle tart with the ingredients available in the market places, so his dishes were increasingly South American in nature.

Did he want to give up those things?

His home in Argentina made him happier than anywhere he had ever been before. Even being with Sirius at Grimmauld Place hadn't made him as happy as living there free from all restraints. There was no prophecy hanging over his head there. He wasn't the Boy Who Lived walking the streets of La Plata. The only complaint he had about his surroundings recently was that it was lonely, staying in a place with no one to talk to.

"Where do you want to live?" he asked her.

"Truthfully?" she wondered, turning over so she could look into his face. She rose on one elbow.

He nodded. "Of course."

"I don't care where we are, as long as you're there."

Honestly, she wasn't exactly keen on the idea of leaving her family to move to a strange country. She would miss Bill and Charlie and Ron and the twins – maybe even Percy. She would miss getting scolded by her mum on a regular basis about black eyes from Quidditch and hearing her dad lecture on the uses of a thumbtack and their uses versus a standard sticking charm.

In short, she wanted to stay in England.

Or did she?

Her whole life had been in England. All the memories of anything she'd ever known were marred by something. Either it was a location of a battle in the war, or she had spent afternoons there with Dean – most of the memories with him, including her first sexual experience, were things she would rather forget – and if all else failed, she would get recognized as one of the famous Weasleys or a Holyhead Harpy. In short, England was one giant booby trap for her.

"Do you mean that?" he asked cautiously.

She laughed. "I can see where you might be cautious, but honestly, Harry, moving does sort of appeal to me. You'd be taking me away from all of this. Plus, going to Argentina wouldn't mean I would never see my family again. I could afford visits at least twice a month on my savings."

"We can afford the visits," he corrected absently. "But what about the Harpies?" he wondered, not letting himself hope she could sensibly be considering this.

"Gwen loves me," she said simply. "I'm sure Magical Games and Sports can bend the rules and get me a portkey to the pitch for practice. Then my contract ends in another year. After this season, I'm free."

"Your brothers would skin me alive for even considering this."

"If you're so scared of my brothers I would think sleeping with me out of wedlock would be a no-no. They'd kill you if they knew."

"Ron saw us on the couch! We told him we were shagging!"

"You know how dense Ron is. Unless he saw us actually shagging, he wouldn't believe it."

"Then what does he think we're doing in the same flat? Playing chess all night?" he asked skeptically.

"That's exactly what he's telling himself. And by the time the wedding rolls around he will have had time to come to terms with the honeymoon."

"So we're honestly considering this? We might go back to Argentina?"

She lay back down, throwing an arm across his chest. "Yes, Harry, we are seriously thinking about being adults and doing what we want to do. And _selfishly_ thinking about having what we want out of life," she added sarcastically.

"I know, Gin, but you and your family are so close…"

"You aren't kidnapping me, Harry," she snapped. "I'm a grown woman. And I can't go on knicking biscuits from my mum's house anymore. I have to grow up. If I'm getting married, I may as well go the whole way and live with my husband. Unless, of course, you want to stay here in this tiny flat?"

"I want to stay where you are," he mumbled against the skin of her shoulder. "I'll go wherever you tell me to go."

She giggled once again. "That's more like it."

OoOoO

"YOU'RE DOING _WHAT?_" screamed Mrs. Weasley, looking at her daughter, clad in white dress robes, with rage. Ginny's brow crinkled. Perhaps five minutes before the ceremony wasn't a good time for this conversation after all.

"Harry and I are moving to Argentina. Gwenog's pulled some strings in the Ministry and I have a portkey for work. We'll visit, mum."

"Oh, like Harry visited so much before?"

"Harry didn't have a reason to visit much before. I hurt him a lot when I was with Dean and he was building his own life in Argentina. He knows how important you all are to me, and now that he's married he has a whole other set of business that will bring him to Gringotts more often."

That was true. Gringotts had sent an owl shortly after the engagement was announced saying he now had access to the Potter family vault. Harry hadn't known anything about it, but apparently he was due to gain control over the ancient family finances when he either turned twenty-five or got married. Ginny went with him to look at the contents and get her name added to the list of family members. The amount of money in the vault stunned even Harry, who with his, now meager, share in the trust account had been expecting to be able to take extremely well care of Ginny and any children to come along.

"But surely you don't have to move all the way to South America, Ginevra. There are places in Europe you could go on an extended honeymoon…"

"We're young and in love," Ginny said firmly. "And who knows? Maybe we will come back sometime, but for now we're getting the peace and quiet we deserve. We've had the floo set up and there will be loads of owls and visits. I love you, mum, but we are honestly and truly leaving."

"I love you so much, dear," Mrs. Weasley sobbed. "I suppose you're right. You need the time away. I do hope you will be back before the children are born."

"We'll see how it goes. I may be homesick before the year is out," she said, though she was almost positive that wouldn't be the case.

"I guess it's time to get you married, dear."

"I suppose it is."

OoOoOoO

The sun had set, leaving the entire wedding reception cloaked in a pleasant darkness. The party was engulfed in soft candlelight, and Ginny Weasley, for once, was in the middle of everything.

Her husband (_Merlin it's nice to call him that!)_ sat at a table with her brothers, laughing. He'd taken off his emerald dress robes and was wearing his button down shirt and trousers. Ron had an arm slung over his shoulders, and Bill had been trying to coax him into another firewhiskey all evening. Every time Bill goaded him, Harry winked at Ginny, signaling perhaps that he wanted to be entirely aware for their evening together.

She couldn't remember ever being so content. They were spending the last night at her flat – which was bare except for her queen-sized bed – and then journey to Buenos Aires by portkey at three o'clock the next afternoon.

Harry had already ordered Kreacher to go on ahead of them (the old house elf had burst into tears of agony when he realized he wouldn't be included in the cleaning after the party), and she was assured the house would be cozy when they arrived.

"Ginny? May I have this dance?"

She grimaced before turning around. She knew that voice, and wasn't disappointed when she found Dean Thomas watching her with an expectant look on his face. He didn't try to hide the fact that his eyes were roaming over her lean frame, and she didn't try to hide her nose wrinkling in distaste.

"Sure, Dean, let's have a dance."

He was exactly the dancer she remembered. Gentle, hesitant in movements; he was graceful but not naturally so. He told her the first and last time they'd danced, at their graduation from Hogwarts, that he spent weeks in preparation.

He hummed as he turned her around, something about him she didn't miss in the least. He hummed all the time – in the shower, brushing his teeth, while eating, drawing, making love, anything and everything under the sun – and they had gotten into a terrible row more than once because she finally snapped at him about it.

He finally broke the tense silence. "George tells me you and Harry are leaving the country. He wouldn't say where."

Mentally cursing George (or Fred, Dean had never really gotten the hang of telling them apart), she answered sweetly, "Harry's made a home for himself there, and to be honest, I need some time away too. I think we'll be happy there."

"I have to admit I was surprised to learn of your engagement."

"Oh, yeah?"

He took a deep breath. "Yes, I always thought you would come to your senses."

"My senses?" she echoed faintly. _What the hell is he talking about?_

"Ginny, don't be daft. You knew our breakup had nothing to do with anything except you wanting to punish me. I thought once the punishment was over you would come back, where you belong."

"Punish you for what? I have no idea what you're talking about!"

He pulled away so he could see her face. "Everyone was getting engaged and I didn't ask you."

Her expression, no doubt, betrayed the mortification she felt. "What the bloody hell are you going on about? I didn't want you to ask me to marry you! I would've said absolutely not! Our breakup was about us not loving each other – hardly even liking each other!"

"May I cut in?" asked a smug voice from behind her. She spun around and jumped into Harry's open arms, waving a very puzzled Dean away. She wrapped her arms around Harry's neck and nudged him with her knee.

"Get us away from here, if you know what's good for you!"

He twirled her to the other half of the dance floor, chuckling. "What was that all about?"

She looked up into his amused face, frowning. "He's off his rocker. Absolutely, completely, off his rocker."

"I'll say. He has no idea how close his bits came to being hexed off. Your brothers and I did not like the way he was holding my bride."

"I didn't notice," she said truthfully. "I was too busy trying to work out just how he managed to twist our breakup into something about my girlish insecurities and wanting him to propose to me four years ago."

"Perhaps he was hit by too many quaffles in his days at Hogwarts," said Harry.

"And don't think I don't know who was responsible for charming those," she told him sternly, but he saw the beginning of a grin on her lips.

"Guilty as charged. I never did like the git."

"I love you, Harry."

"I hope so, or we took the wrong vows."

OoOoO

**Nineteen Years Later…**

Ginny Potter sipped tea at the kitchen table of the Burrow, reveling in the silence existing just between her and her mum. It was dusk, her favorite time of day, and her husband and three children were no where to be found. Harry was probably out in the shed with Arthur, showing the old man how to put batteries in the small portable radio Harry had bought him last Father's day.

James had most likely gone against her orders and stolen the floo powder to journey over to Weasley Wizarding Wheezes. Ginny was already formulating punishments in her head, but smiling at the thought of her oldest boy, giving the two greatest pranksters in her family a run for their money. The twins loved James to death, but they now had an idea of the trouble they caused Molly growing up.

Ron and Hermione were away for their seventeenth wedding anniversary, which meant the ever eager babysitter Grandma Weasley was taking care of Rose and Hugo. Surely Albus and Rose were tucked away in a corner of the house, reading one of the books on basic Transfiguration or beginner's charms. No matter how she tried, Ginny could not cease her son's worry about his upcoming year at Hogwarts. He was walking around Potter manor these days, brow knit, _Hogwarts, A History An Updated Version _by Hermione Weasley, under his arm.

It took a little over six years of love and peace for Harry and Ginny to start a family. They lived quietly with their first son in Argentina, amidst many protests from Grandma Molly, until he turned nine. The only thing that could coax the couple from their beloved home in La Plata was the Hogwarts letter Professor McGonagall, under orders from Molly no doubt, had slyly sent them.

They still kept their first home there open, and one of their six house elves lived there full time. They loved England in their own way, but nothing could match the beauty and serenity either felt when back in their adopted home.

"Mummy!"

Ginny turned her head automatically, discarding her tea cup in time to catch the little, redhead bullet hurling itself at her. Lily Luna Potter was the only Potter to have gained the family gene of red hair, and Harry often said she only needed his emerald eyes to look exactly like his own mother.

"What is it, dear?" asked Ginny.

"James went to see Uncle Fred and Uncle George. Is he in trouble?" The little girl's eyes were full of concern, but Ginny recognized the growing smirk etching itself onto her features.

"He is in heaps of trouble, don't worry about that." Ginny pulled her onto her lap.

"Can I go to Hogwarts instead of him?"

Molly laughed. "Oh, dear, she is getting to be exactly like you, Ginny!"

"She surely is," called Harry from the back door. "I never saw such a mischievous little girl."

"Hello, love," greeted Ginny. Harry made his way over to her and bent down, capturing her lips in a very thorough kiss. "I missed you."

Lily crossed her arms and frowned. "You saw daddy just a while ago, mummy. How can you miss him already?"

"Ask her that again when you're married, Lily-love," said Molly. "For now, let's go collect James from the shop."

Ginny smiled as the two left the kitchen. "I hope she forgets because I honestly don't know the answer to that question. How is it that I still miss you so much after all these years?"

He pretended to be thoughtful. "It must be my supreme good looks."

She laughed. "Not hardly. If I wanted good looks, I'd have stayed with Dean."

He picked her up and headed for the back door, to the apparition wards. "Now you'll pay for that one, Potter. Dean Thomas has nothing on me. Do you admit it?" He tickled her until she was gasping for breath.

"We can't go," she protested, breathless. "Albus is still here!"

"Your father will take care of him," Harry growled. "Right now, we've got a score to settle."

"Damn it, I love you," she said, giving him another kiss, just at the edge of the wards.

"And all because Ron set us up," he said, quirking his eyebrow.

She grimaced. "I hate to think we were so dense it took that to get us back together again."

"Believe it babe. We are the two thickest witch and wizard who ever lived."

They apparated away with a gentle 'pop' leaving the Burrow for the night.

Fin

_A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed; I really enjoyed writing this story and am so glad to be done with it. I wanted to get this out as soon as possible, so there are bound to be inconsistencies, I hope you'll forgive me. Thanks, rupert22._


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